Excerpt from faroutmagazine - Printed on bleached green paper and with olive green ink the pamphlet is a thing of beauty without considering the touching contents. As confirmed by Alan Graham’s notes saying that Morrison was “passing the poem out to everyone he met. It was published in pamphlet form on pale green bleached parchment with olive green ink.”
Written not only about his beloved hometown L.A. the poem has more resonance with the subject of Brian Jones. The founding member of The Rolling Stones was found dead at age 27 in his swimming pool on July 3rd, 1969 and paid tribute to the star as a mythical figure.
Only two years later Morrison’s own untimely death came at the same age and also saw his body found in a body of water.
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Bernett, a French-born former New York Times journalist, claims the death was then covered up by two drug dealers who transferred Morrison’s body from the club to the singer’s apartment and dumped it in the bath.
Poem Transcription BELOW:
I’m a resident of a city
They’ve just picked me to play
the Prince of Denmark
Poor Ophelia
All those ghosts he never saw
Floating to doom
On an iron candle
Come back, brave warrior
Do the dive
On another channel
Hot buttered pool
Where’s Marrakesh
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm
You’ve left your
Nothing
to compete w/
Silence
I hope you went out
Smiling
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream
The angel man
w/ Serpents competing
for his palms
& fingers
Finally claimed
This benevolent
Soul
Ophelia
Leaves, sodden
in silk
Chlorine
dream
mad stifled
Witness
The diving board, the plunge
The pool
You were a fighter
a damask musky muse
You were the bleached
Sun
for TV afternoon
horned-toads
maverick of a yellow spot
Look now to where it’s got
You
in meat heaven
w/ the cannibals
& jews
The gardener
Found
The body, rampant, Floating
Lucky Stiff
What is this green pale stuff
You’re made of
Poke holes in the goddess
Skin
Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls
of music
No Chance.
Requiem for a heavy
That smile
That porky satyr’s
leer
has leaped upward
into the loam
Jim Morrison Los Angeles 1969